Rethinking Writing Rules -- Pt. 2

By Mike Duran

Mike’s stories have appeared in Relief Journal, Coach’s Midnight Diner, Forgotten Worlds, Alienskin, Infuze Magazine and Dragons, Knights and Angels, with articles in The Matthew’s House Project, Relevant Magazine and 316 Journal. Mike is currently part of the editorial team for the Midnight Diner’s second edition. He and his wife Lisa live in Southern California, where they have raised four children. You can visit him at his website, deCOMPOSE.


After my last post, one commenter called me "a brave, brave man." I couldn't help but translate that as "brainless buffoon." Sure, "I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)" was my theme song in high school. But now having raised four children (none of whom are incarcerated, addicted to illegal substances, atheists or liberals), I can attest to the necessity of rules.

However, so did the Pharisees.

I recently submitted a story to a Christian writer's contest. The judges follow a checklist that contains 20 categories, with a maximum of 5 points per category. Some of those categories include these items:

• Has the author observed the required manuscript format? (Courier or Times New Roman 12 pt double spaced) Is the type neat? Does it have 1 inch margins all around?


• Is the point of view consistent? Are POV changes smooth and logical?


• Does the writer utilize showing and telling skillfully?


• Is there an opening line or paragraph that immediately hooks the reader into the story?


• Are character motivations powerful enough to create sufficient conflict?


• Is the dialogue between characters natural and not stilted, revealing plot and emotion in a way that narrative cannot?

No doubt there are rules that govern good stories, not to mention rules that govern good contests. I mean, who would argue that "sufficient conflict" and "natural dialog" aren't essential to a well-told tale? But do these types of checklists ultimately help or hurt storytellers? Dotting our i's and crossing our t's is necessary in a court of law. Yet in the court of public opinion, how important is a consistent POV? Does the “checklist mentality” place style above story, and potentially produce Pharisees whose primary aim is to follow the rules rather than spin yarns?

I recall submitting a piece to my writing group once, and a moderator pointed out my repeated use of “was,” a dreaded passive. "It was shrill." "She was dwarfish." "The prosthetic leg was really a telescope." In the throes of frustration, I submitted this post to the entire group as penance:

was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was,was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was, was

There. Now I’ve got it out of my system.

Mike

I eventually became so paranoid about using passives that I would spend hours, literally, weeding them from my work. (Remember, I’m a legalist.)

And that legalism eventually robbed me of reading pleasure. Passive tenses began popping up everywhere -- most notably in books endorsed as must-reads -- and I nit-picked them to death. For instance, I happened to pick up Winter's Tale, Mark Helprin's acclaimed novel, and read the first sentence:

THERE was a white horse, on a quiet winter morning when snow covered the streets gently and was not deep, and the sky was swept with vibrant stars, except in the east, where dawn was beginning in a light blue flood. (italics mine)

Four passives in the first sentence! Where were the gatekeepers when you needed them? Here I'm busting my ass to weed out was's, and some dude pops out quadruplets in the first sentence. My writing group would have a conniption.

Do you see a pattern here? I learned the rules and rigorously applied them, only to see them broken. Repeatedly. Something had to give.

There’s no question that:

"The prosthetic leg was really a telescope."

is not as good as

"The prosthetic leg unscrewed to reveal a telescope."

But what’s ideal and what’s acceptable are two different things. The Master of Horror concedes as much. Stephen King, in his wonderful book On Writing, says this:

I won’t say there’ no place for the passive tense. Suppose, for instance, a fellow dies in the kitchen but ends up somewhere else. The body was carried from the kitchen and placed on the parlor sofa is a fair way to put this, although “was carried” and “was placed” still irk the shit out of me. I accept them but I don’t embrace them. (pg. 123)

Well, there it is. Bells, whistles and angelic choirs. "I accept them but I don’t embrace them." The use of passives is tolerable, but not ideal. Just like the rest of the “writing rules,” their bend-ability is in the eye of the beholder.

So I took back a few was’s.

Think about it: If the primary goal of a story is to take us somewhere, then the “writing rules” must be subservient to that end. Much like a map, the aesthetics are secondary to the functionality. It is required first of the mapmaker to know which way North is. A colorful, good-looking map that replaces roads with rivers and cities with salt plains, is moot. Try as I might, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings maps will not get me to the Shire. However, his stories will.

Perhaps this is what we should first teach aspiring novelists, not about passives, POV, and show v. tell, but about getting people to the Shire.

After four years of straining at gnats and swallowing camels, the following observation has been painfully liberating: The majority of readers aren’t writers; they read to be entertained, mystified, scared and inspired, not to be enthralled by style. The style of the story -- and the rules that govern its writing -- are not nearly as important as the story itself. The public hardly seemed concerned that the DaVinci Code was, at best, stylistically pedestrian. They wanted to be transported to a world of religious intrigue, which they were to the tune of 60 million copies worldwide.

The moral: It’s up to the reader to decide how many passives are tolerable.

It’s true that aspiring authors need rules. Just like that 5 year-old who lunges into the street, the author with a propensity for passives deserves a spanking. While the 16 year-old who lunges into the street deserves to get run over, the novelist who overuses the passive tense risks only readers, not life and limb. Either way, the rule is not a magic formula for safety or success, it is simply meant to get one across the street.

Far too many aspiring authors are looking for formulas. I say that as an aspiring author. And sadly, far too many teachers are available to accommodate us. It’s created an echo chamber of sorts, a community of overly-eager authors determined to cross their t’s and dot their i’s, ceaselessly pining for the Holy Grail of publication, ever enforcing and venerating the commandments of their own making.

The writing rules have their place, but they can also blind one to the destination. After all, the ultimate goal of the storyteller is not to obey all the rules, but to get her readers safely to the Shire.